


and I want you (do you want me, do you want me too)

by notcaycepollard



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Coulson has a thing for Skye's legs, Desk Sex, F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 04:30:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4652304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/pseuds/notcaycepollard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Enjoying the view?" Skye asks, and Coulson makes a noise she's never heard before. "Because, you know, we can talk, or I can just keep going here. Either way, you're going to be distracted for a bit. You need to take a break."</p>
            </blockquote>





	and I want you (do you want me, do you want me too)

**Author's Note:**

> shameless smut, there is no plot here, okay cool

The Director's been working too hard lately. Even worse than usual - skipping meals, falling asleep at his desk, avoiding the team. Skye's worried about him. She also  _misses_ him. She misses him a lot.

So when she's going through her box of stuff from the Bus, and she finds that bright pink dress, she thinks she might have a way to get him away from work. At least for a little while. She shucks off her shirt and jeans, pulls on the dress, and it's a little tighter than it used to be - she's got more muscle now - but it looks pretty damn good, actually. She fluffs out her hair, takes a deep breath, and goes to his office before she can back out of her great idea.

"Hey, Coulson," she says casually, shutting and locking the door behind her. He barely looks up, just mutters something that might have been "Skye" or might have been "what is it". 

"You missed lunch," she tells him, and he sighs.

"I'm not hungry," he murmurs, turns the page of whatever report he's reading now.

"You also missed  _dinner_ ," she points out, and he sighs again, settles back in his chair, looks at her properly. His eyes widen, just a little. 

"Is that-"

"Yeah," she smiles. "Found it while I was going through my things. I haven't even worn it since that time I went undercover at Quinn's. Feels like a million years ago, huh?"

"It does," he agrees, and Skye smirks to herself, because Coulson's letting his eyes linger on her just a little longer than he should. The pink dress is shorter and tighter than what she usually wears these days. It's showing off a lot more skin. That's kind of the  _point_. 

She moves closer, rests her hip against the edge of his desk. When she crosses her arms, she notices the way Coulson looks almost unconsciously at her breasts before raising his gaze to her face. "So," she says, running a finger absently against the chain of her necklace (and that's got his eyes sliding back to her cleavage, for sure. She _really_ likes this dress). "What are you working on?"

"I, uh, it- the mission in Uzbekistan," he replies, just a little flustered. "Just finishing up the field report."

"Huh," she says, leans down to close the folder and push it out of the way. "Doesn't sound all that urgent.  _Sir_."

"I..." Coulson _breathes_ , and she knows why, because when she leans forward he can see the lace edges of her bra. "I've got other work to do, Skye."

"Oh sure," Skye says lightly, and boosts herself up to sit on his desk. "You can take a break though, right?"

"Skye," he says, sounding frustrated, and she grins at him, swings her feet a little.

"What? I'm just sitting here. Figured you could take a little time for a talk about what's going on with your incredibly ridiculous workload right now." He groans, and she smirks, shifts a little, lets her knees fall apart. Coulson's eyes go to her legs almost unwillingly, and she swings her feet a little more. "Enjoying the view?" she asks, and he makes a noise she's never heard before. "Because, you know, we can talk, or I can just keep going here. Either way, you're going to be distracted for a bit. You need to take a break."

"I'm just  _busy_ ," he huffs. "Get down and let me get back to work."

"Mmm, not gonna happen," she tells him. "Write me up for insubordination, if you want."

"Skye, this is ridiculous," he says, but he sounds a little breathless. She smoothes her hands over her skirt, lets her fingers play with the hem, and yeah, Coulson's  _watching_ , looking intent and conflicted. She pulls the hem up, pushing the skirt up until it's sitting high on her thighs, and he swallows like his throat is dry, drags his eyes away almost reluctantly. Skye lets her dress go, the fabric settling in rucked-up folds, strokes her fingertips across her thighs in little circles.

"This-" Coulson tries again, and Skye moves her weight, shifts to lean back on her hands, opens her thighs a little wider. The skirt slides over her skin, falling down between her legs, and Coulson makes another noise, almost a  _growl_ in the back of his throat.

"Do you want to touch me?" she asks. "Because you can. You can touch me."

" _Skye_ ," he groans.

"You've wanted to touch my legs for a long time," she says, low and husky. "I notice you noticing me, you know. You're not  _subtle_. But I want your hands on me. I want you to touch me." Coulson lets out a breath, tentatively puts his palm on her calf, slides it slowly up her leg to the knee. Skye feels like her skin's on fire where he touches her. "Higher," she tells him. "I'm gonna tell you what to do here,  _sir_." Coulson pushes his hand higher, moves in a little closer. His fingers are trembling on her skin.

"I can't-" he says, and he sounds wrecked by it. "I shouldn't-"

"Do you  _want_ to?" she asks again, and he nods, looks up at her, and his eyes are dark and full of  _want_. "Yeah. Yeah, Phil,  _me too_. So. Both hands.  _Higher_." He breathes out, runs his hands further up her thighs, and she sighs with how good it feels. "God, sir, do you know how long I've waited for your hands on me like this?" she moans, and he chokes, bites his lip.

"I never thought you'd want this," he whispers, and she can't help it, she leans forward, grabs him by the tie, pulls him in for a kiss that's all wet and sharp and biting. He moans into her mouth, presses closer, kisses her back with intent and force and purpose, and when he sits back in his chair, all the conflicted frustration is gone. He just looks  _longing_.

"Roll up your sleeves," Skye tells him, and he does it slowly, teasingly, his eyes fixed on hers the entire time. She spreads her legs wider, lets him catch a glimpse of the pale skin on her inner thighs, and it makes his breath catch. "Yeah," she breathes. "I want your fingers there." Coulson doesn't hesitate, runs his fingers light and delicate up the inside of her thigh, and then makes a noise so filthy it goes straight to Skye's clit.

"Are you- have you got  _no underwear on_?" he demands, sounding scandalised and also deeply, deeply turned on. _  
_

"You figured that out, huh," Skye teases, closes her legs and traps his hand between her thighs. "Do you want to touch? Do you want me to make me come on your desk, Phil?"

" _Fuck_ , yes," he says without hesitation, and she frees his hand, lets him stroke fingers deftly up across her clit. The touch immediately makes her moan, louder than she should, and he drags his tongue across his lower lip, pushes a finger slowly into her. She moans again, falls back onto her elbows, arches her hips up towards him so he can get another finger in.

"Like that," she says, "yeah, like-  _god_ yes, like that." 

"I want- can I put my mouth on you?" Coulson _begs_ , and Skye thought she was wet before, but the question makes her pulse and clench around his fingers. 

"Yes," she gasps, "yes, fuck yes, get your mouth on me." He pulls his fingers out, and that makes her cry out softly with disappointment, but then he's pressing kisses up her legs, biting gently at the tender inside of her thigh. He pauses with his mouth close to her, his breath hot on her clit, and then  _licks_ , switching between long strokes to tiny lapping movements that make her moan and gasp and arch harder into his mouth. He sucks at her clit, pushes one finger and then two back into her, crooks them to hit the perfect spot inside her. Skye swears, shudders, drops her head back against his desk, and he sucks harder, grazes his teeth against her just a little, then pulls away, slows back to soft touches. She doesn't know how long it goes on, Coulson building her up to the edge and holding her there, until she's writhing and moaning under him, her thighs trembling, and then he pushes another finger into her, grabs her thigh with his other hand and holds her in place as she shakes herself to pieces against his mouth. _  
_

When he pulls away, his mouth and chin are slick and shiny, and he sucks his wet fingers into his mouth, licks them clean obscenely. Skye feels like she might come all over again just from watching. She climbs off the desk into his lap, kisses him, sweeps her tongue across his mouth to taste herself on him. She can feel him hard against her, and she knows she's probably ruining his suit pants right now with how wet she is. She doesn't care at  _all_.

"So," she asks, laughing. "Going back to your mission reports? Or do you want to take me to bed and fuck me properly?"

"The latter," Coulson growls, nips playfully at her lip, and Skye thinks her great idea to distract him was really a  _great_ idea. She seriously loves this dress.


End file.
